


Provenance

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crime AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28893555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: Having been under suspicion for the theft of the White Owl diamond collection, Suna Rintarou is understandably bitter when he sees the actual culprit free and enjoying the high life as a celebrity photographer. But, as Ginjima Hitoshi tells him, Miya Atsumu has an impeccable alibi, and he can't be in two places at once.Can he?Read on and enter the world of jewel thieves, diamond dealers, gem cutters and ... heart-shaped cookies.
Relationships: Ginjima Hitoshi & Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Provenance

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 3 of SunaRinWeek, prompt Crime. 
> 
> Had a lot of fun writing this-especially 'Tsumu-but these foxes sure do tangle me into knots.

Having wandered through the atrium of the gallery, Suna Rintarou wasn’t entirely sure of his modus operandi for the evening, except to observe. What he’d already noted was how casual the security seemed to attend the reception. (He’d flashed his business card at the guard and had been waved through with nary a glance.) But then again as he stared at the main attraction, under an alarmed glass box, with lighting enhancing every exquisite facet, and the knowledge it was protected by an elaborate web of laser beams, the focus was clearly on the prize rather than the visitors.

At the forefront was the Foxfire Diamond, on display for the VIPs to gawp at as they sipped champagne, accepted canapés on silver salvers and pretended to talk when a photographer pointed a camera their way. Making actual conversation, Suna had been told having attended these receptions before, tended to give the dignitaries a number of unflattering chins, so they’d recite a poem and look interested (but not too interested in case wrinkles appeared) until the photographer had taken their shot.

Tugging at his stiff collar and attempting to loosen his bow tie a tad, Suna was unprepared as a flashlight went off in his direction and he winced before raising his hand to his face.

“Too late,” chirped the photographer cheerily. “You tryin’ to remain incognito?”

“I’m no one important,” Suna replied, blinking away the green and yellow lights still flickering before his eyes.

“Guess not, but I’ve seen you at one o’ these things before, right?”

He’s observant. But then a photographer would have to be. As his eyes focused once more, Rintarou found himself staring at a man, roughly the same height as he was, with dyed blond hair pushed to the side, and a wide almost smirk of a grin lighting up his face.

_Miya Atsumu._ How like him to appear, to flaunt himself in front of the assembled guests and the host, albeit behind a lens.

Suna, squinting at happenstance, gave a short bow. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Suna Rintarou.”

“Pleased you meet ya. I’m Miya Atsumu. And you’re here for … uh … what reason?”

“I’m in the business,” Suna replied, hoping he sounded suave. “Who do you work for?”

“Myself. I’m freelance.”

_Of course you are._

“And what business is that, Suna-san?” Miya enquired, selecting a glass of champagne. “Party Planning? Catering? Do you supply the booze?”

“None of those.”

“Hmmm, security?” he asked lightly, but staring through the rim of his glass as he sipped.

“The gemstone business,” Suna replied, adding. “Lapidary.”

“L-Lapi-what now?” Miya asked, chuckling, but he swallowed more of his champagne than he meant to.

“I’ll leave it to you to find out. However as I said before, I’m no one.”

Miya was stepping away, looking over his shoulder at a just-arrived minor royal, and with a slight incline of his head he made his escape.

You’re lying. You know exactly what my profession is. And although I only have a suspicion, Miya, I believe I’m right about you.

Once the initial melee had calmed down, Suna was able to approach the diamond. In his professional capacity he was interested in the cut used for the Foxfire and how well it accentuated its deep orange colour.

Over the other side of the room, Miya Atsumu, unusually for a photographer, was holding court, flattering the celebrities, snapping them and then laughing as he shared jokes and anecdotes. 

Miya, Suna suspected, knew what lapidary was. Most of the people here would not have a clue, and usually Suna would qualify or simply say ‘a gemstone cutter’ but he’d wanted to see Miya’s reaction. There’d been a widening of his eyes and pupils, something that couldn’t be faked, a split second before he’d made his stuttering claim of ignorance. And he had not approached Suna again, not even when he’d been standing close to the diamond talking to the event organiser.

With a last look at the other exhibits (there was a particularly beautiful emerald choker with impeccable credentials) Suna called it a night at the preposterously early hour of eleven. He’d return again for a closer inspection when the press night was over, but for now there was no need to hang around. If he were right, there would be no need for him to return for a few days. Nothing would happen tonight. Not with Miya in the room rather than across the city at another star-studded event.

“How did it go?”

Suna looked up from his desk at the arrival of Ginjima Hitoshi—his business partner—acknowledged him with a nod before replying, “Interesting. Some fine exhibits. I handed out some business cards, pressed some flesh, and made your excuses. How’s the knee this morning?”

“Annoying,” Ginjima complained as he made his way to his chair.

“You’re quite speedy on those crutches now,” Suna said. “And not wobbly. You could have gone with me.”

“I was still not going to go along last night watching the rest of you gulp champagne while I can barely hold a glass,” he muttered, glowering.

“I wasn’t suggesting you should!” Suna protested, then smiled. “Besides, would your suit trousers fit over that colossal brace?”

“Nope.” He eased himself down, lifting his leg onto the already prepared foot rest. “Was the diamond as fine as everyone says?”

“It was.” Suna got to his feet. “Coffee?”

“Please. You liked the cut?”

“Exquisite,” he replied, thinking back to the way the spotlights had flickered on each facet.

“That’s it?”

“Hmm?” The coffee jar was almost empty, barely a scraping of granules left.

“The Foxfire diamond is not only the finest in the world, it’s also the best example of a red diamond we’re ever likely to see, and all you can do is drop words like ‘exquisite’ which mean nothing in our business!”

Suna chewed the side of his mouth, only half listening. “Miya Atsumu was there.”

“Who?” Ginjima flashed him an exasperated look, then as comprehension dawned, he sighed. “Oh, him.”

“Mmhmm. Snapping pictures.”

“He’s a photographer. Isn’t that his job?”

“Yes.”

“But …”

“There’s no ‘but’.”

“There’s always a but with you, Rintarou.”

“He’s always there. I know he’s a photographer, but he’s been to at least three of these first nights.”

“And that’s supposed to mean something?”

“Then when he’s at another event, the main attraction is stolen.”

“That’s what’s known as an alibi.”

“Mmm. We’re out of coffee. I’ll go and buy some from the café.”

“Cool. Large Flat White, please.”

Alibi. Yes, Miya had an alibi. He’d had an alibi for each theft in the past two years and it was always unimpeachable. Always spectacular. And wasn’t that just a little bit suspicious? He was never doing _nothing_. Never alone eating takeout in his room when a robbery occurred. Always at an event or with someone whose credentials were unassailably good.

It was cold outside, with a dusting of snow on the pavements, so Suna wound his scarf twice around his neck, found some gloves and pulled a hat over his ears. He stepped gingerly in case it was icy, but seeing the grit on the ground he continued with more confidence amusing himself as he watched chattering children delighting in the dragon breath they made into the cold air.

The café was over the road, a short slip and slide away. They knew him in there, so he’d barely rattled the door open before the boy behind the counter gave him a half a smile whilst attending to another customer.

A tall, male customer, with a broad back from what Suna could see and a grey woollen beanie pulled down low over his ears.

“Caramel syrup would be great thanks,” the customer said, “and have you got any o’ those little heart-shaped cookies. The mixed chocolate chip ones?”

The voice chimed discordantly, familiar and yet not because … because …

_Where’s the mockery?_

And then the customer half-turned, leaning on the counter and in profile—tilted nose, pointed chin and heavy lidded, almost sleepy eyes—was unmistakable.

“Miya, are you stalking me?”

“Huh.” The eyes widened, surprisingly soulful and not the least diminished by thick eyebrows. “Do I … uh … sorry.” He tapped his head. “Terrible memory when it comes connecting names to faces.”

“Suna Rintarou. We were talking last night.”

“Ah, yeah, at the gallery, right. S’cool. Good t’ see you again.” He screwed up his face “Hey, the gem cutter, right?”

“You did know, then?”

“Uh, sure. I mean, I asked around.”

“So did you enjoy it last night? Get what you wanted?”

“Kinda.” He paid, whipping out a credit card and accepted two tall coffees and a bag of the mini-cookies. “Anyway, I should go.”

“Yes, sure, don’t let me keep you from your date.”

“Date?”

“Two coffees.”

“Aw, that!” He laughed. “Ones for me and one’s for—uh—for me later. I’ll walk and drink one then have the other back at my apartment.”

“And the cookies?”

“T’ eat on the way home.”

“Oh.”

Miya was smiling at him, not his smirk of last night, but something warmer.

“So you being here is a coincidence?” Suna asked, making sure.

“I was walking past, smelt the coffee, spied the cookie and wandered in,” agreed Miya. “D’you work round here?”

“Close by. The usual,” he said to the server, who immediately reached for two coffee cups.

“Ah, a regular,” Miya said. “And … uh … are you on a date, Suna-san?”

“Pardon?”

“Two cups.”

“Oh, no, one’s for my partner… business partner.”

“Another gem cutter?”

“Not exactly. He sources the stones, I cut them.”

“Equal distribution of labour,” Miya muttered, glowering. “Wonder what that’s like.” Then he shook his head, as if to clear it. “Didja enjoy last night?”

“It was interesting,” he replied, voice in neutral. “Professionally speaking, very interesting.”

“Did you cut the Foxfire?”

“Me?” he almost laughed at the presumption. “That’s not in my league.”

“What league’s that, Suna-san?”

“Do you really want to know? Or are you being polite?”

“It’s interestin’,” Miya replied, and offered over the bag. “Want a cookie? We could walk and talk.”

He accepted, taking a small bite and letting the icing melt on his tongue. “Aren’t we going in opposite directions, or are you angling to come into my office for a look around?”

“You offerin’?”

_Offering to show someone I suspect of being a jewel thief into my workshop? Yeah, right!_ “Another time, perhaps.”

“Ah, cool, I’d like that. Unless … uh … my behaviour last night put you off. I know I’m kinda larey at times.”

It did … at the time. But now? Suna eyed Miya carefully, wondering if his initial assessment had been wrong. “I’m not sure,” he said cautiously.

“Ah, fine.” Miya sniffed, and pressed his lips together into a thin line. “So,” he muttered, with the air of one changing the subject, “what league was that?”

“The one I’m comfortable in. Nothing too pressured.”

“Pressured? So, you ain’t interested in making the leap to cuttin’ for the big events. ”

_Or for crooks._

“I cut gems for jewellery, not display cabinets,” Suna said wryly. Collecting his coffees and paying, he stepped towards the outside, noting Miya was still with him. He surprised himself thinking, he wasn’t annoyed by his presence—not in the way he had been at the launch. And that made him bold, seeing an opportunity he might not get again. “Pressured is the wrong word. The size and value of the Foxfire diamond doesn’t faze me, Miya-san, but …” He trailed off, taking a step towards his office, then looked over his shoulder. “Thank you for the cookie.”

“What would put you off?” Miya called out.

“Provenance.”

In the afternoon, Suna accompanied Ginjima to see a buyer. In the normal run of things, Gin would go alone, but with his injured knee, Suna had taken on the role of bodyguard in case anyone was perceptive enough to realise they were trading today. He glanced to his left and right before the pair of them got in the car, and he checked in both the wing and rear view mirrors continually.

“You’re jumpy today,” Ginjima remarked from the seat in the back.

“Security isn’t a laughing matter.”

“You seem extra cagey, that’s all. I’m trading opals and garnets today not yellow diamonds.”

“A pickpocket might like them.”

“A pickpocket isn’t going to be following us in the car and the case will be handcuffed to your wrist,” Gin muttered. “Come on, give. What’s up?”

“I saw Miya this morning in the café.”

“So?”

“So why was he there?”

“Possibly to buy coffee?” Ginjima snorted. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little obsessed with this guy?”

“You don’t think it’s odd that he turns up in our local the night after I saw him.”

Ginjima shrugged, probably to cover up the fact he was laughing. ”Maybe he thinks you’re hot.”

“I doubt that. He’s an arrogant jerk, whose idea of hot is looking in the mirror.”

“Now I come to think of it, you were in a much better mood when you returned with those coffees. Is the arrogant jerk is getting under your skin, Rintarou?”

“No!” Suna snapped.

“And now you’re getting defensive. Was he trying to take photos? Did he get you to pose?”

“He wasn’t working,” he said and frowned. “Actually, he wasn’t quite as obnoxious as he was last night. Even gave me a cookie.”

“The pink one you were nibbling when you got back?”

Suna nodded. “Heart-shaped too. Unexpected because the night before he was an ass and ignored me once he discovered what I did.”

“Maybe it’s a work thing,” Gin replied. “Like a persona.”

“So he can switch his bad attitude on and off. Why bother? Whatever it is, I have no intention of finding out. Miya is bad news.”

“So bitter,” Ginjima sighed. “You have no proof, merely a suspicion and that’s ropey.”

“You weren’t the one questioned for hours by the cops.”

“An hour and a half,” Ginjima tried to reason. “And, face it, they had grounds. If you will loiter on street corners.”

“I wasn’t loitering! I was waiting for you!”

“And I got Kita-san to vouch for you. Reputation intact.” He shifted his leg on the back seat. “You might think you saw—”

“I know what I saw,” Suna put in.

“There’s no proof. Miya was very definitely at the film premiere that night. He could not have snuck out without it being noticed. You’re right about one thing; he really is that arrogant. Despite being the one with the camera, he managed to photo bomb a lot of the official press pictures.”

_Deliberate,_ Suna thought. _I know what I saw._

And that had been Miya Atsumu at the back entrance of the gallery where the White Owl diamond collection was on show. Okay, so he didn’t have a striped jumper, nor was he carrying a bag with SWAG written on it, and if nothing had happened that night, Suna was sure he’d have forgotten about the figure, but the alarms had gone off, and Suna had been left in the shit as he waited for Ginjima who’d been unavoidably delayed at Kita Shinsuke’s workshop.

It was Kita they were on their way to see now. A buyer, but also a creator who fashioned exquisite one off pieces—not so much jewellery, but centre pieces or even shimmering chandeliers. He’d asked for first refusal on the opals once he’d known Ginjima was on his way to Australia, and had commissioned him to talk to the garnet dealers.

They were at the beginnings of a business relationship with Kita Shinsuke, and one neither was keen to jeopardise because Kita was a name, and his patronage could only enhance their standing in the gem world. Scrupulous in all his dealings, only a favoured few came into his orbit. It had been the previous year at a gemstone auction that Suna had met him. They’d begun to talk, casually at first, but Suna had had the feeling that he’d been on Kita’s radar before he’d walked in clutching the catalogue. Auctions were not his forte, so maybe his unease had been noticeable. Whatever the reason, Kita had introduced himself during a break, and then made a request:

“Are you bidding on lot seventy-three?”

“The amethysts? No. I’m looking for onyx and obsidian.”

“Very dark.”

“It’s for a jewellery collection. I’m cutting the prototypes.”

“They haven’t supplied you with stones.”

“I’m … uh … particular about quality and authenticity.”

Kita had inclined his head, but not before Suna had caught a flash in his eyes. “Then, as we’re not in competition, will you bid for me?”

“Uh, pardon?”

“My proxy is unavailable and if I bid the price will shoot up. I’ll give you a promissory note now to cover any costs.”

His word was good, everyone in the business knew that, and Suna had bid successfully, delivering the amethysts to Kita and receiving not just a small buyer’s commission but an offer to cut said amethysts for a headpiece.

Musing on this as he drew up in front of Kita’s business premises, Suna wondered again just what had it been about him that had caused Kita to talk make contact.

“You’re gaining a reputation for excellence,” Ginjima had said, when Suna had pondered. “And _we_ have a reputation for honesty. Kita-san will find that not just appealing but necessary.”

Reversing into a reserved space, Suna parked, then before leaving the car, chained the briefcase to his wrist. It was only a short walk now to Kita’s office, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Gin was right, he was extra antsy today, not just because the sight of Miya Atsumu at the exhibition last night had brought back memories of his arrest last year, but the coincidence of him appearing at the café had sharpened the edge he felt himself standing on. He opened Ginjima’s door, waiting to help him out, but just as Gin had handed over his crutches, a figure bowled out of Kita’s building, camera over his shoulder, and a red bike helmet in his hand.

“That’s Miya!” Suna seethed.

“Are you sure?”

“I’d recognise that bad dye job anywhere. Hey, Miya!” he yelled.

“Why are you calling him over? We’re supposed to be discreet!” Ginjima hissed.

“So he knows I know, all right!”

“Uh…” Miya turned, a slight frown to his face, but then he smirked and sauntered over. “Suna Rintarou, we meet again.”

“Mmm, what a coincidence,” Suna replied, then stared into Miya’s eyes. “Except I don’t believe in coincidences. This is the third time in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Huh?” Miya blinked, then grinned again. “I know right. If I were paranoid, I’d think you were stalkin’ me, Suna-san.”

“No, just obsessed,” Ginjima muttered, and levered himself out of the car, snatching his crutches from Suna. He offered one of his open smiles to Miya. “Hi. I’m Ginjima Hitoshi. Suna’s partner. You’re the photographer, yes?”

Miya positively preened. “You’ve heard of me?” he asked, trying but failing to sound self-deprecating.

“We’ve seen you snapping all the stars,” Ginjima continued. “You’re as famous as some of them.”

“Aw shucks, you’re makin’ me blush.” He raised his hand, pretending to fan his face, then his eyes drifted to the briefcase attached to Suna’s wrist. “Oooh, somethin’ big goin’ down, Suna-san?”

“Nothing you need to know about,” Suna muttered. He cleared his throat. “Why are you here?”

“Bit of work. Got a client in there wanted some shots for a brochure. Like, I’m better with faces and people, which is why I go to all these events, but I c’n make inanimate objects look cool, too. It’s like an art, and I’m good, y’know.”

“I’m sure.”

He could hear Ginjima muffling a snort, and sure enough he was staring at the shoes ground and his shoulders were shaking as he levered himself up to standing and leant against the side of the car.

“What happened to you? Fall down a diamond mine, or somethin’?

“Or something,” Ginjima agreed, and scowled at Suna who hid his smirk. “What’s next, Miya-san?” he asked. “Any more glamorous assignments?”

“Uh… got a magazine launch on Friday.”

“Fashion?” Ginjima asked.

“Naw, motoring. Still the champagne tastes the same. And I get to drool over cars.”

“Ah, I’m with you there,” Gin said, sighing as he gestured to his leg. “I miss driving. Having Suna chauffeur me isn’t the same.”

“I could go over the speed limit and crash into a few pedestrians to liven the journey up for you,” Suna replied waspishly.

“Ha, yeah, I get you, Ginjima-san! Nuthin’ quite like goin’ at full throttle. Y’know this one won’t be as excitin’ as the Foxfire or a film premiere, but some of us gotta hustle for a livin’ not havin’ the luxury of a partner to carry the slack.”

“I thought you liked the idea of equally dividing the labour, Miya-san,” Suna queried. “You said as much earlier. Made me think you had a partner not pulling their weight.”

“Uh… yeah, right, I did say that. It’s … um …” A muscle flickered in his temple. “More my agent y’know. He gets his cut for all _my_ work.”

“You should get yourself a sideline,” Suna said smoothly, keeping his face passive. “Something lucrative.”

“Shouldn’t we all!” Miya laughed. “D’you recommend the diamond business? Looks pretty lucrative to me.”

“Less lucrative than you imagine to an _honest_ trader,” Suna replied, and gripped the briefcase tighter. “Ginjima’s crutches aren’t diamond encrusted. Anyway, we mustn’t keep you from whatever you’re planning.”

“Not gonna say ‘it’s nice to see you again, Miya-san’?”

“No.”

Behind him, Ginjima was snorting again, not even trying to hide it his time and together they made their way to Kita’s office.

“So that’s Miya Atsumu,” Gin breathed. “Odd.”

“What’s odd?”

“I thought you were exaggerating about how much of a jerk he was, but I’m surprised you didn’t throw the coffee at him.”

“Mmm, so am I.”

Kita was rinsing out two cups when they arrived. His set of rooms was on the third floor and housed a small office-cum-workshop and his living quarters. Answering the door, he’d ushered the pair of them into the workshop, then set about filling the kettle again.

“I’ll make fresh. Unless you’d prefer coffee.”

They both agreed on tea, Ginjima lowering himself into a chair and leaning his crutches against the wall.

“Your knee, yes?” Kita asked, swirling the teapot with warm water.

“Mmm, the brace comes off in two weeks time.”

“Don’t let him fool you he came over all Indiana Jones,” Suna quipped, dodging Ginjima’s attempt at a slap. “He tripped over a bag at the airport.”

“Unfortunate,” Kita replied, his lips twitching. “It didn’t impede you, though.”

“Return journey. Tokyo airport,” Suna explained. “Which explains why I’m here too, as the brawn to Gin’s wheeler-dealer skills.”

“I’m sure your brain is just as useful,” Kita replied.

“And more calculating,” Ginjima put in. “Anyway, I have some opals for your inspection. And I sourced the garnets you wanted.”

“Excellent.”

“Is it for something particular?” Suna asked. Kita and he moved in different spheres but that didn’t mean they weren’t interested in the other’s output.

“A fruit bowl,” Kita replied, placing a tea-tray on the desk. “Like a basket but weaved from silver and zirconium wires, set with garnets and hopefully your opals.” He reached into his drawer pulling out a large sketchpad to show them the designs. “It’s a commission for the Japanese Art Foundation, but I have free rein.”

“Is that why Miya was here?” Suna asked, watching to see how Kita reacted.

He didn’t and continued to pour the tea. “Atsumu-kun is taking publicity shots for the exhibition next year. I saw you talking to him. I wasn’t aware you knew him.”

“Know _of_ him in my case,” Ginjima said, grinning “Rintarou’s run into him a few times. They rub each other up the wrong away, except in coffee shops it seems.”

“Really? I’m intrigued.”

“He’s all show!” Suna complained.

“He has talent and works hard,” Kita countered, but gave a small smile. “But he’s certainly not to everyone’s taste. Now, drink your tea and let Gin-kun show me the gems, and then I’ll explain to you how I’d like them cut.”

“Oh… you want me to do the cutting?”

“Can’t think of anyone better,” Kita replied, his eyes flickering.

Usually garrulous when they’d done a successful deal, Gin was quiet on the journey home. Looking at him in the rear view mirror, Suna saw his face creased in concentration. “Cat got your tongue?”

“He talked too much,” Gin muttered.

“Kita?”

“Noooo, Miya. You might be right. Sounded as if he was out to convince us he was there for legitimate reasons.”

“Kita said he was.”

“Mmm, I know, but …”

“You think he’s casing Kita’s place?”

“Not sure, but …he’s not exactly subtle, is he?

Suna nodded. “I know you think it’s impossible, but I still think he’s after the Foxfire.”

“The similarities to the Owl collection, you mean.”

“Mmm, which makes me think Kita-san’s safe.”

“You could be right.”

The car stalled and Suna winced at the grinding of gears. “What? You agree with me?”

“ _Could_ be right,” Gin replied, chewing his lip. “At least I’ve seen a way he _could_ have got there.”

“Huh?”

“He rides a motorbike, right? And, yeah, he was at a film premiere last time, but who’s to say he didn’t slip out when the film was showing. It wasn’t all red carpet and champagne. Getting from one side of the city to another in a car would take a while, but on a bike … cutting through alleyways … speeding up the inside lane …”

“You think it’s possible?”

“Would have been tight…” He screwed up his face. “Maybe too tight, but possible. The question is—”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“I was thinking more ‘Are we going to bother doing anything about it when we can’t prove a bean and it’s not really any skin off our joint noses if he gets away with another robbery?’” He chewed his lip again. “But then I wasn’t the guy arrested, and I’m thinking you’re taking this personally.”

“Too right,” he muttered.

But Suna wasn’t at all sure what he wanted to do with this chink of knowledge, even with Gin’s support. Go to the police? With what? He had nothing. If he hunkered down outside the gallery waiting for Miya to make a move on the Foxfire, then he risked being implicated and as influential as Kita-san was, Suna didn’t think his character reference was an indefinite pass.

“How many thefts have there been?” Gin asked, interrupting his contemplation.

“Uh, that fit the pattern, four. The Seagull Blue was the first—in Hokkaido. Then there was the Jet Sapphire—okay not a diamond—but … ”

“I remember that one. Go on.”

“Then before the White Owl collection, there was the Cat’s Eye.”

“And they’ve not questioned anyone else?”

“Pretty sure the police aren’t going to confide in me,” Suna snarked, “I’m probably still their main suspect.”

“And Miya had a connection to all of them?”

“In his capacity as a photographer, yeah. The Cat’s Eye was about to be auctioned off and he took photos for the catalogue.”

“And when it was actually stolen?”

“That singer, Ami-chan got married and he was the photographer.”

“Ah… could he have slipped away?”

“No idea.” He turned into their road, backing into their parking space, belatedly asking, “Are you coming up, or do you want me to drive you home?”

“Let’s have a drink. We’ve earned it.”

It was two days later when the invitation arrived. Addressed to the pair of them, a paper folded ticket and a handwritten note in careless, hurried writing.

_Hey, Suna-san and Ginjima-san,_

_You mentioned liking cars, so I talked to the magazine organisers and blagged you a couple of tickets. See you both there._

_Miya A_.

“Well, well, well,” Suna murmured, handing over the note to Gin.

“That’s nice of him.”

“Sneaky.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the last but one day the Foxfire’s on show. After that, it’ll be sealed in a vault, and his chance is gone. This…” He pursed his lips, brooding. “This could be Miya’s idea to keep us out of the way.”

“Or he likes you and this is his roundabout way of asking you out.”

“Me? Why not you? With your affinity for cars, you’ll drive off onto the sunset together”

Gin laughed, reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out half a bottle of whisky and two glasses. “You sound curiously jealous for someone that loathes the guy. But then he did give you a heart-shaped cookie, so you clearly take that as a commitment.” Handing a shot of whisky to Suna, he poured one for himself. “Odd that?”

“Hmm?”

“Miya giving you a cookie.”

“He had a bagful. I was standing there and he was being poli—oh!”

“He’s not polite. Which unless it was poisoned, leaves only one option.”

“Don’t say it.”

“He likes youuuu,” Gin trilled and fluttered his eyelashes. “Offering the cookie is his clumsy way of saying it, and this invite is another.”

“Or my theory is correct and he knows I’m onto him and wants me out of the way.”

“By inviting you to the event he’s going to try and abscond from.”

He had a point. Suna sipped his whisky and pondered. “Maybe he won’t turn up. Last minute cancellation and we’re stuck at the launch, while he’s helping himself to diamonds.”

“Or he likes you,” Gin repeated and smirked, clearly enjoying Suna’s discomfort. “Look, you said he was okay in the café. Maybe give him another chance.”

“Nope.”

“He might be fun once you get past the … the …” He stopped speaking, smothering a laugh into his fist. “No, he’d be a nightmare. He’s a tosser, possibly a thief and I’m starting to think you were under a caffeine withdrawal delusion when you met him in the café.”

“Yeah, me too. So, I’ll bin the invite, then,” Suna replied, screwing it up.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Gin snatched it from him and smoothed it out on the desk. “I wanna go drool over the pretty cars.”

“Is that all?”

“Hum, well, I’m guessing you’re going to keep an eye on the Foxfire, am I right?”

Suna waggled his hand.

“Sooo, if you’re correct and Miya is this kind of gentleman thief, then you’ll need someone to keep an eye on him and let you know when he makes his escape,” Gin reasoned, continuing happily. “And I get to mingle with the petrol heads.”

**< <The mark is here. I repeat the mark is here, roger!>>**

**_< <You’re having too much fun with this, aren’t you?>>_ **

**< <It’s like I’m an undercover cop>> **Gin texted back. **< <Anyway, Miya’s all present and correct. He asked after you.>>**

Suna swallowed, glad he didn’t have to speak right now. **_< <Did you make my excuses?>>_**

**< <Told him you’d been called away to Aichi.>>**

**_< <Did he buy that?>>_ **

**< <Think so. I mentioned your family. Anyway, he seemed relieved>>**

**_< <Because he doesn’t want me to spring him>>_ **

**< <If you say so. He’s actually quite assiduous. Been making sure I don’t have to stand for too long and fetched me drinks>>**

**_< <So you remember he’s there. You’re part of the alibi. Don’t forget that. Over and out!>>_ **

He could practically hear Gin snorting. **< <I’m starting to think this whole thing is a bust. I can’t see how he’ll slip away and even with the bike, it’ll be pushing it.>>**

**_< <There are other things he could do. Power cut for instance. Or sudden mass food poisoning giving him cover to escape.>>_ **

**< <I’ll avoid the vol-au-vents>> **Gin replied.

**_< <Just text me if he leaves>>_ **

**< <Is that a roger or an over an out message>>**

**_< <Fuck you_ ** **> >**

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Suna zipped up his hoodie and positioned himself by the bus stop opposite the gallery. The last day of the exhibition was tomorrow, and after that the Foxfire would be carefully packed away and taken onto its next location along with the exhibits. Unless Miya was planning to hijack an armoured van, this was the best time to strike. A guard on the front door, another at the back, and two patrolling inside, but he’d got past higher security before, even zapping the high tech system surrounding the Jet Sapphire when its owner had opened up his mansion to select tours.

He figured you’d have to have a particularly sneaky mind, coupled with a strong side of bravado. Suna knew about sneaky minds—he had a talent for not only spotting the angle, but exploiting it to his advantage. It’s what made him an excellent gem cutter, spotting the flaws in a diamond, and either using or bypassing to get the best result. He walked away from the bus stop, crossing over the road and around the corner so he was now at the side of the gallery. There were only two doors. The main entrance and one for traders, and the security detail had factored both in, placing a guard at each. But …

“They’ve not thought of ‘up’,” Suna muttered. “I bet you have, Miya.”

Aware he could now be accused of ‘loitering’ again, Suna shuffled off to an overnight café, positioning himself at a window seat and taking out a book he could peep over.

It was, he thought, downright dull being on stakeout, and after his second coffee and one cheese croissant, he was starting to think he should have got there later. Miya would still be schmoozing with the glitterati at the magazine launch, after all, and couldn’t exactly make his escape until later when everyone was several champagnes higher than they’d been at the start.

It was as he was about to text Gin to ask for an update that something caught his eye. Rain had started to fall and the guard at the front had shuffled backwards so he could shelter under the porch.

_Slack. Guard-san, you have no view of the street or the roof now. But I have._

He craned his neck. The rain continued to patter down, but it wasn’t a heavy downpour and he didn’t think it would last long. Was this the opening Miya would exploit?

**_< <Where’s Miya?>> _ **

No reply. He waited a little longer, eyes trained on the street and up to the roof. The guard was now smoking, clearly not taking his duties seriously at all. As a crowd of teenagers pushed inside the café. Suna frowned at the distraction, then back at his phone screen as Gin had stubbornly refused to reply.

Unless he couldn’t …

**_< <WHERES MIYA?!>>_ **

Still no reply. Squinting across the road, he looked up at the roof, unsure what he expected to see, just that this was the gap Miya would wait for when everyone was scurrying inside, no matter how slippery the roof and walls could be. No matter that he’d risk his neck. His arrogant, loud-mouthed, jerk-face, cookie sharing neck! Prepared, he raised the binoculars round his neck to his eyes and focused on the side of the gallery.

And then it happened. A shadow crossed one of the windows on the second floor as if a large bird were about to land stretching out its wings. Except this bird was grappling with the sides of the wall as agile as a cliff face goat and just as tenacious, the figure inched its way across the cladding.

**_< <HE’S HERE!>>_** he texted to Gin. **_< <Thanks for the warning!>>_**

**< <He cant be>>** came an immediate reply.

**_< <He’s with you?>>_ **

**< <Hold on.>>**

**_< <GIN!>>_ **

**< <He must have slipped out. Swear I saw him barely a minute ago>>**

**_< <I TOLD YOU TO WATCH HIM>>_ **

**< <HEY IM ON CRUTCHES REMEMBER!>>**

**_< <AND THEY AFFECT YOUR EYES!!>> _ **

**< <Just get out of there now. Or call the police>>** Ginjima begged. **< <Don’t get caught in the area again>>**

Police… well, that was a possibility, but something stopped him. Maybe it was his desire to see how this played out, and the slight admiration he hated himself holding for Miya, who was now looping mesmerically across the wall until he reached a window not quite closed.

_He knew it wasn’t locked. Inside job? Or luck?_

And ignoring Ginjima’s texts, he stuffed his phone back in his pocket and scanned the nearby roads, knowing here was nothing he could do now until Miya sprung the trap and made his escape.

He felt his mouth twitch when he spied it. A motorbike with a red helmet hanging off the handle bars.

“Well, well, well, isn’t this fortuitous?” he breathed, and fancying himself as the best private eye in the history of television and cinema, he leant casually against the bike and waited.

The first thing that happened was the low light inside the gallery fizzling out as Miya cut the power. It wouldn’t be long before the emergency generator kicked in, but he must have been counting on the befuddlement of the guards giving him just enough time to lift the Foxfire before scrambling out of the window he’d jemmied open.

Effortless. He looked through his binoculars at the gallery again, then, just before the power came back on and the alarms sounded through the city, he saw the figure emerge through the window, slip to the side and abseil down to the ground, all without catching the attention of any of the guards.

Then Miya ran, full exhilaration giving wings to his feet as he raced across the pavement leaping over a low wall until he reached the side street.

And stopped short. The rain had got heavier, drenching the pair of them, but at least Miya had his beanie hat. Maybe it doubled as a balaclava, Suna wasn’t sure, but even in the sodden moonlight, he was clearly Miya Atsumu.

“Hi Miya!” Suna said, waving. “Four times in a week. This is getting to be a habit.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? You were s’posed to be at the launch.”

“Proving a point,” Suna replied.

“We need to get out of here. Can you hear those alarms?”

“Mmm, but it’s not me the police will arrest this time, is it?”

“Wanna bet,” Miya muttered, and with a sudden spurt he vaulted towards his bike. “Get away from here!”

Suna clutched Miya’s wrist. “I’m going nowhere.”

Somewhere in the distance a police siren sounded. Miya gulped, then wrenching free of Suna, he opened up a carrier on the back of the bike and thrust another helmet at Suna. “Get on,” he ordered.

“Why?”

“You wanna get locked up for this?”

“I won’t.”

“You want to risk your liberty and reputation for the Foxfire?” He grabbed Suna by his jacket lapel. “It’s all I took, y’know. I left everything else.”

“Why?” Suna whispered, his eyes drifting to Miya’s lips and the sudden thought that maybe they’d be fun to kiss. He shook his head. “Uh, why d’you leave everything else, Miya?”

“Provenance,” he snapped. “Jus’ like you. The Foxfire’s a blood diamond, and I ain’t too fond o’ them.” He released Suna, but continued to stare, his eyes black and sparkling in the night. “So, Suna-san, you comin’ with me, or stayin’ here to tell the cops?”

“I can’t be a part of this,” Suna protested.

“You already are,” Miya retorted. “You became a part of it when you decided to keep watch. Now, get on I won’t tell ya a third time, and remember this. I’ve got a perfect alibi and you ain’t.”

“Gin will back me up.”

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yeah.” He retrieved his phone, startled to see Gin had sent him a ream of messages.

**< <I found him. He was in the bathroom>>**

**< <Rin, reply please. He’s here. Miya’s not left the building.>> **

**< <SUNA LEAVE THE FUCKING AREA! DON’T GET CAUGHT UP IN THIS AGAIN!>>**

**< <ANSWER ME DAMMIT!!!>>**

**< <OKAY HERE’S PROOF!>> **

Suna shivered, scrolling down until he reached a photo, and saw not just Gin, but Miya Atsumu, arm draped across Gin’s shoulder and beaming at the camera.

“That’s impossible.”

“No,” said the Miya beside him, removing his beanie and shaking out his hair … his grey hair … his not in the slightest yellow but really quite attractive hair … “Not impossible.”

“There are two Miya Atsumus!”

He laughed, a touch bitterly. “There are two Miyas. I’m Osamu and I’m the one you met in the café. Now that siren is getting closer, so get your helmet on and hitch a ride before I leave you here.”

Suna blinked, but obeyed, recognising not just the order but the logic of escaping a situation he’d found himself in. Sitting astride the bike, he clutched Miya … (Osamu, was that his name?) around his waist and together they sped off.

Miya took back alleys, roaring up them before finding an open road and slowing down. Initially surprised, Suna soon realised he was attempting to blend in, to remain inconspicuous on his getaway vehicle. And he kept quiet, keen not to distract him as he weaved through the cars, turning a last into a brightly lit and familiar street.

“This is Kita’s street!”

“Uh, huh.” Miya parked and pulled off his helmet. “You comin’ inside. I take it you want an explanation.”

“Do I get a drink as well?” His head spinning, Suna leant against the bike, adrenaline leaving his body and causing his legs to buckle.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Miya Osamu replied, and slid his arm under Suna’s shoulders. “An’ not just tea, either.”

Kita arched one perfect eyebrow when he let them in but didn’t comment, except to offer Suna the sofa in his living room. He left for the kitchen with Osamu, returning with three glasses and a bottle of brandy, setting them on the coffee table.

“I thought you were going to the motor magazine launch,” he murmured, staring down at him. “And then I heard you were visiting your family.”

“I lied,” Suna said, keeping eye contact. “What does all this have to do with you, Kita-san?”

Kita flexed his fingers and sat across the room from Suna, leaving the space next to him free for Osamu to drop into. “Me? Oh, I’m the fence.”

“The fence? B-but that’s illegal. I thought you were as strict about provenance and authenticity as me?”

“I am.” Kita placed his hands together as if about to pray and then let out a breath. “But you know of their provenance, don’t you?”

“The Seagull Blue had disputed ownership—I know that much because it was cited in a divorce settlement. The Foxfire and the White Owls are blood diamonds,” Suna muttered. “From conflict regions, smuggled out and sold to provide arms. At least that’s the rumour, but there’s no proof.”

“It’s a vile trade,” Osamu added. “But Kita-san found a way to redress the balance.”

“By stealing them? How does that help?”

“They’re sold and the profits are given back to the regions they’re stolen from. Schools and hospitals get the bulk of the money.”

“What about the Jet Sapphire? And the Cat’s Eye.”

“Ah … the Cat’s Eye was a fake. Once the owner realised his grandfather had sold it years before, he wanted the sale stopped, but without any scandal attached to his name. He called me.”

Kita paused and sat back in the chair, swirling the brandy in his glass.

“As for the Jet Sapphire, its original name was the Ravenstone. We returned it to its rightful owner, or at least his descendents. You have heard of it, yes?”

“I … I read about it. Thought it was a myth. It was taken over eighty years ago,” Suna whispered. He started to tremble, so Osamu thrust a glass into his hands and they waited for him to take a sip until the tremors had ceased.

“Suna-kun, I understand if this is too much for you to take in. But you’re here because you would _insist_ on following up on your suspicions of Atsumu.”

“He broke the law.”

“Technically, he’s the only one who didn’t, apart from knowledge of the crime, but he’s never been questioned …” He splayed out his hands. “We don’t profit from this.”

“Apart from ‘Tsumu guzzlin’ free champagne all night.”

“True.” Kita laughed.

They were all silent for a while, Suna sipping his brandy, letting it curl inside of him until his heart had stopped thumping quite so hard and the only sound was a tick, tick, tick of an ornamental clock.

“What’s next on your list?” Suna asked breaking into the quiet with a rasp.

Osamu licked his lips, staring at Kita.

“A change is in the air,” Kita replied. “Osamu would like to live a little, I think.”

“Damn straight. Kinda sick o’ bein the shadow.”

“There have been questions about the thefts, queries into the background of the stones we stole and although the police aren’t looking _too_ hard into this ‘crime wave’, it won’t do to push our luck. Word has got around and the world’s unscrupulous billionaires are less inclined to purchase diamonds without checking their authenticity due to the stink associated with them. We haven’t solved the issue, but we may have negated it for a while.”

“So you’re going straight,” Suna frowned.

“Ish. We’re going into the lost antiquities business—paintings, sculptures, vases and the like,” Kita replied. “Perfect for Osamu as he can ‘return’ to Japan from whatever expedition he’s been on.”

“More Ravenstone Sapphires out there. Still taking a risk, Kita-san.”

“Not all thefts are as blatant. Where colonising countries are involved, it requires a defter touch.” He licked his lips. “Like yours, Suna-kun.”

“Me? I cut gems.”

“And you’re excellent at it, but if you wished to expand, be a persuasive voice for the cause …” Kita rose to his feet. “How about I cook for us, and you can think it over?”

“What about the Foxfire? It’ll be hard to fence, surely?”

Kita lingered by the door. “Osamu, show Suna the Foxfire. Let him examine it close up. Perhaps he has ideas.”

“Sure.”

As Kita left, Osamu opened up a soft velvet pouch and emptied the diamond into Suna’s palm, breathing softly. “What d’you notice?”

“How beautiful it is,” Suna replied, tone hushed in awe as he stared into the flame red stone. It appeared to move, flickering and winking at him, alive although inanimate, and seized by curiosity, he raised it to the light.

“There’s a flaw,” he murmured. “I can’t be sure because I don’t have my eyeglass, but that line there looks like a fracture.”

“And what would you do?”

“If I’d handled this originally, then I wouldn’t have cut it like this. I’d have been tempted to sacrifice size for quality, and ensured two flawless diamonds. A pair of foxes, perhaps. ” Feeling wistful, he knew that however passionately he disapproved, nothing could tame the beauty of this rock. “But then … sometimes I think the flaws are beautiful, too. It’s endearing.” He exhaled, before handing the stone back to Osamu. “Put it away, will you.”

“I’m sorry we dragged you into this.”

“I rather dragged myself, but your brother irritated me so much!”

“Yeah, he does that.”

“I won’t say anything,” Suna mumbled. “In case you’re worried.”

“Ah, ‘Tsumu has an alibi and I c’n disappear again.” He sniffed, then angled his body towards Suna’s, voice husking. “Not that I want to disappear. Not now.”

About to ask why, the question was interrupted by Suna’s phone ringing.

“Gin.”

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve not been arrested again?”

“Uh… no false alarm.”

“And you know it’s not Miya, right.”

He glanced up at Osamu, the look in his eyes liquefying his stomach. _Not that Miya, no._ “Um… where are you?”

“Atsumu’s offered to give me a lift home, but we’re calling round to Kita-san’s first. Oh … he says you’re there!”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Um, why?”

“I’ll explain later.” He settled back in the sofa, weariness hitting him with the force of a mine shaft cave in, and wondered if there was anything to lighten his dampening mood.

It was over. He’d solved the mystery of Miya, and his reputation was intact, but it felt hollow. He’d done nothing except prove it for his own satisfaction, and … and Osamu was still staring at him, mouth drooping, perhaps still worried Suna was going to expose them.

“Um, you said not now.” Suna asked, “Why?

“Few reasons,” he replied, then swallowed and fixed Suna with a look. “Legitimacy, emerging out of the shadows, the constant diet of adrenalin isn’t good long term. But … uh … also I’d like to do normal stuff more often, l-like buying heart-shaped cookies and sharing them with cute almost-strangers.”

“Is that a bribe, Miya?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

His hand was resting by his side, so close Suna could touch his fingers with minimal movement.

So he did.

“Bribe accepted,” he replied.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a blast, but I must stop thinking about what Osamu will steal next.


End file.
